


Change Directions

by drvology



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: J2 AU, J2 PBR AU, M/M, fic-a-month, my 2018 challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 15:17:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14167728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drvology/pseuds/drvology
Summary: Sometime after the events of all three J2 PBR AU BBs. If you haven't read those, this won't make a lot of sense. But hey, here they're cowboys and bullriders!





	Change Directions

**Author's Note:**

> In 2018 I'm hoping to write 1 fic a month. This is 03/12. Fic for March, which occurred to me ends today, and me still without having written anything. This tidbit flitted to mind and I thought okay sure--why not. So a brief foray back, and a look-in on how JR & JT are faring these days. Technically posted minutes past midnight, but! written in the last hourish of March. Oh, and those three PBR BBs are still on my LJ [start here-- https://drvsilla.livejournal.com/324445.html].

Jensen's heart jumped, jack-rabbiting like it hadn't since his rookie days. He got his seat, fit good and right and his body held the memory of this like it'd only been yesterday. Yesterday and not two years.

Two years—shit. That long, that only.

Two years of too many barn cats to count, a fourth dog added, the big farmhouse filled with antiques and flea market finds from their goddamned antiquing and flea marketing. Two years helping put events together, coaching the young knotheads, still understanding the bulls better than anyone else. Two years building prime breeding stock, acres of alfalfa and rye and hay, leaving the rest of their acres and acres to stay wild. Two years of worrying each time Jared got on a bull and sharing a single, _you got this yup see I got_ _this_ nod after every off Jared made clean.

Two years driving smaller highways, stopping at all the sites that caught their fancy between events, fucking in smaller hotels.

He got on the bull, didn't kill himself or his creaking old bones stepping into the chute, he still fit good and right. That settled him, a mite.

"Don't fuck up." Jared flattened a broad palm to Jensen's chest and grinned.

"Yeah, thanks." Jensen shook his head. It was too heavy, weird. "I can't see a damn thing."

He was nervous, and hated that, but no one watching him all weekend would know.

Jared leaned even closer. "You'll do fine," he said real quiet, that perfect pitched tone above the noise of the arena but for Jensen alone to hear.

Hm so, one someone knew. But it was the one someone Jensen couldn't mind for a split.

The bull under Jensen huffed and he did too—he was ready—called it out.

"C'mon!" he shouted, fingers tingling in the wrap, arm threatening to cramp.

Jeff patted his leg through the gate, nodded, and then trotted away circling a finger in the air.

The lights went out and strobes flashed, then pyrotechnics across the ring went off. Jensen cursed, hated this wasted time and the bull getting tired, but he'd agreed to this and too late to push the finer points of how he wanted it.

"Okay everybody!" John's sing-song, drawn out vowels boomed over the sound system. "Are – You – Ready?"

The arena rocked, applause and cheers so loud Jensen couldn't hear his own breath. Jared steadied him, patted his sternum, kept him centered as Resurrected grumbled and jerked in the chute.

"It's the ride you've all been waiting for! One champion cowboy come back for a single ride! And one champion bull, bucking his last go—here, tonight—"

"Fuckin' now, already," Jensen growled through his teeth.

His jitters wanted to roar back, take the place of his skin, but he throttled them, choked them down. Then came the flick of Jared's thumb warm against the cup of his collarbone. The imperceptible touch, nothing to notice, everything to Jensen in that moment. His entire focus as the rest dropped away.

He quirked a half-smile, rolled his free shoulder, visualized making the moves while imagining Resurrected's past rides. The bull's action, the punch-front out of the gate followed by a wicked hip twist, and then the spin.

But a spin into his hand. A bull he should ride, no excuse, even this long rusty from it.

He should. He would. He met Jared's sparkling gaze and nodded.

Jared yelled something he didn't pay attention to, and then Jeff was there again.

"Okay JR, don't forget—after your ride find the mark and keep going. No matter what."

Jensen nodded, waved Jeff away. He'd think about that next.

"Now you help that cowboy ride!" John boomed again.

The crowd thundered and Jared gave his back a last thump, moved clear, arms still out just in case.

The gate clanged open and Resurrected shot out, quick to it, ready to be done with this. Jensen's adrenaline surged, and then his mind and body went quiet—he grinned, licking his chops at the scent of that impatience, tightened his legs and rode a short buck into the smooth, steady spin he'd anticipated.

Eight seconds was a lot shorter than he remembered. Jensen was with every turn, stuck close, stayed with. He heard Jared, then the buzzer, heard the crowd. Jensen loosened the rope, waited, waited, stepped off Resurrected like nothing doing as the bull turned a corner.

He raised both arms, whooped, pointed at Jared. Hardly the meanest or rankest bull he'd ever had but he didn't care, couldn't keep his celebration quiet like he had that ride. He wheeled his arms and the crowd fair swooned.

Jensen patted his heart—Jared would see it, feel it, know it—then turned on his heel, Jared's borrowed rope still in his hand, coiled it into the other as he walked. Found the camera without seeming to hunt it and sauntered to it.

He'd practiced getting the helmet off, and good thing, didn't fumble it once to his mark. He fit it under an arm and smiled into the camera.

"Hey, everybody. I'm JR Ackles, and I just took that challenge to ride again for one reason—to prove helmets just don't interfere with performance. Mutton bustin', bucking broncs or bulls, every young rider should be taking their health and career seriously enough to wear one. If there's one thing this old hard-headed cowboy's learned—no one's head is hard enough to ride without one of these. Even me."

He nodded, aw shucks and charming, winked, and turned away.

As he strode across the dirt John called out his score.

91.

The crowd opened up again as confetti rained down, and Jensen flipped the hat Sterling handed to him onto his head and then doffed it all around.

Lauren was there, vulturing at the side gate, and he answered her questions and made polite and nice as she enthused about his agreeing to be part of the campaign to make helmets the norm rather than the exception.

He spied Jared over Lauren's shoulder, hid his satisfaction and stayed the impulse to shove her aside and run to Jared's grin and flexing hands.

She let him go after another minute, after he signed the helmet he'd worn for some auction, and he climbed the steps behind the chutes to jostles and razzing and high-fives.

Jensen boosted onto the back rail and Jared settled right alongside, all that long long, long beautiful length of him, heat of their sides and hips and legs pressed together. He made a show of stretching and accepting handshakes as if right alongside pressed together was happenstance.

No one cared anyway, with the way he and Jared always were. Too far apart would be the question, the ripple of speculation.

"Does it make you want to un-un-retire?" Dustin asked, flopped down from the bars overhead.

He'd wondered if it would, but, "Nah. You boys have been doing so good since I've gone, finally have a chance—heck it just wouldn't be neighborly of me to start riding again. Outright unkind."

"Mean, even," Lind offered, and Jensen snapped his fingers and nodded to agree.

The boys all made noises—disparaging and worse—and Jensen fair glowed.

"And good thing. Wearing a helmet freaking sucks," he grumped at Jared.

"That mean I can stop wearing one?"

"Hell no," Jensen bit out, sincere in it, before he could think.

Jared threw an arm around his shoulders. "Wouldn't dream of it—I don't want to risk all this," he said, rough past a swallow. "I mean, no way do I wanna end up pudding brains like you."

Jensen snorted and elbowed Jared, hard. Jared tried not to laugh and he tried not to laugh and they leaned into each other, totally not laughing.

"It was a good ride—the 91 was earned."

Jensen lowered his head, hid behind his hat, smiled too soft for anyone else to see. "Thanks, Jared."

Jared squeezed his arm and eased away a fraction.

Jensen didn't miss riding. He had building the competition pens and Colin to boss around and a riding association to make better than best and Jared, fit good and right and right beside him.

His voice started echoing loudly around them and he quirked a brow.

The PSA he just filmed played on the jumbotron during a break. He snorted and pulled his hat down and yeah-yeahed as the crowd applauded. Finally had to stand, wave his hat, get settled again.

"You know, you weren't awful. I thought maybe you'd be awful." Colin beamed. "I mean, we talked about what to do if you were just full terrible, prepared to be consoling and distracting and all."

"We?" he asked.

Jared snickered into a shoulder and Colin's beam near split his face in two.

Little shit was first in points. Jared a comfortable third. Jensen hated them both.

"Now there's your retirement gig—movies. Or at least TV. I hear Hallmark is always looking for hunky leads." At the group's look Justin shrugged. "What, my wife loves those movies."

"Hell, Jensen can't stand when people incidentally pass their glance over him at the grocery store." Jared shook his head and jostled Jensen with the hand wrapped around Jensen's arm. "Can't imagine him enjoying the movie star limelight. Even Hallmark."

"Damned nightmare," Jensen grumbled.

Everyone snickered. Jared understood its truth.

"Oh my god." Chad made an ick-face. "Of course you weirdo assholes grocery shop together."

Jensen rolled his eyes.

"That's not even the half of it."

Jensen's stomach dropped and for a half-second he wondered just what all Colin knew—not that he cared about Colin knowing, really, he realized—but what Colin might say to make the others wonder.

"Oh?" Chad prompted.

"JT talked JR into planting vines." Colin puffed out, waited for the response. He'd been there for part of the planting, helped even. Then he huffed and clarified, "Grapevines. For making some of their place into a winery."

"Huh. No shit." Justin gave Jensen a look. "You know anything about making wine?"

"Nope."

"You plan to learn?"

Jensen quick-glanced at Jared, waited a beat. "Nope."

Justin snorted a laugh. "Typical. And even more, sure to be a roaring success."

Jensen shrugged, quirked a quick-snicking grin. Very likely. Then he paused, nodded at Colin, not sure what exactly for. Always keeping his trust and always giving so much try, he figured. Colin stayed loose and grinning and same as usual, nodded back. Jensen was long over surprise at what all that kid managed, well used to it. Less used to not even being surprised he wasn't worried about it, still sighed out a low whistling _whew_.

Aldis cracked a laugh, punched Jensen's arm. "Good work not messing your commercial up. You know they were gonna run a reel of a ride you actually made in post if you hadn't made Resurrected, right? I mean, at least that's what Mike said."

"Sure, listen to Mike." Jensen wouldn't grin first so he waited Aldis out, who did grin.

"Alright, I'm up—come spot me Dust."

Dustin fingered his hat at Jensen and followed Aldis down the grates.

"So what'll you call it? Your wine, I mean." Lind was genuinely interested—good old Lind.

"I dunno." Jensen shrugged. "We were thinking just use our cattle brand," he said casually, like he hadn't spent hours doodling the entwined, double Js on wine label compositions that included tall pine trees and a bucking bull and rolling fields.

Chad clicked his tongue. "Wow, a business plan and a half, hey?"

"Our business plan is solid. People love wine, people love cowboys. Boom." Jared cuffed Chad. "You're just jealous."

"Yeah, probably." Chad hopped down from the rail across from them. "I'm gonna go watch Aldis get stomped."

The others around them drifted, forgot Jensen's momentary return to celebrity.

"Hey." Jensen turned into Jared and craned back, watched his breath ruffle Jared's hair. Watched Jared suppress a tremble only he would see. "A while before this thing ends, yet. Wanna go hide in my truck, under these bright Billings stars, let me kiss on you maybe?"

Jared let out a lazy sigh, shrugged. But jumped from the rail and walked away, back and back and back through the warren of corridors to the gravel parking lot, the dark beyond, so fast Jensen could barely keep up, in answer.


End file.
